// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //
It mattered to him, at least. Mattered in terms of knowing whether or not that curly haired bull of a man(?) would be returning and toying with Thalassa’s emotions like a piss poor game. But all he can offer her is his warm embrace, drying slowly from their connection and the heat that radiates from the butchers skin into Thalassa’s like a heated blanket.
She curls in and Asta guides her, pressing her head into his scarred shoulder where she might be able to feel the rough, bark-like ridges of his scars and the steadiness of his heartbeat as his hand smooths down her back and back up between her shoulders. “Gone.. forever.” The butcher murmurs in kind, repeating it to ensure that he’s gotten it correct and all those hackles of tearing Pierce apart can start to settle.
Not that he’d get very far. He’d seen some of the chaos of the pool party that had cemented the fact he might be utterly useless. But during Leafchange, his rationality flared differently. “I am sorry, darling.” He murmurs, even if he burns with absolute discontent to hear that she’s so suddenly chosen to tear herself apart because of a man. (Despite knowing how contradictory that was given how much he’d do that for Danta).
Ahem, anyway.
His embrace is a gentle but firm squeeze, head tilting to press against her head and horns where she’d get the overwhelming scent of smoke, leather, and old blood. “You have always been so strong, my dear. Never once had I imagined you could let someone get through to you so deeply, but I suppose this is why, hm? They leave in the end and leave you to pick up your pieces all by yourself.” His accent drips with the thicker Whitebrim tones, ending the statement on more of a hiss than he would have otherwise liked.
But he shifts, then, both hands coming up to cup her face and press his forehead to hers, more of a sibling and protective touch than he’s ever given her before. “Yet, you are not alone this time. Let me help you piece yourself back together.” He knows of her infection, so he refrains from lashing out with his silver dagger of a tongue in order to try to get through to her. “And you will be strong again. You will make him proud, if he ever hovers past to see how you are doing, hm?” He withdraws, the dark glint to his gaze remaining even as he focuses wholly on her face.
She curls in and Asta guides her, pressing her head into his scarred shoulder where she might be able to feel the rough, bark-like ridges of his scars and the steadiness of his heartbeat as his hand smooths down her back and back up between her shoulders. “Gone.. forever.” The butcher murmurs in kind, repeating it to ensure that he’s gotten it correct and all those hackles of tearing Pierce apart can start to settle.
Not that he’d get very far. He’d seen some of the chaos of the pool party that had cemented the fact he might be utterly useless. But during Leafchange, his rationality flared differently. “I am sorry, darling.” He murmurs, even if he burns with absolute discontent to hear that she’s so suddenly chosen to tear herself apart because of a man. (Despite knowing how contradictory that was given how much he’d do that for Danta).
Ahem, anyway.
His embrace is a gentle but firm squeeze, head tilting to press against her head and horns where she’d get the overwhelming scent of smoke, leather, and old blood. “You have always been so strong, my dear. Never once had I imagined you could let someone get through to you so deeply, but I suppose this is why, hm? They leave in the end and leave you to pick up your pieces all by yourself.” His accent drips with the thicker Whitebrim tones, ending the statement on more of a hiss than he would have otherwise liked.
But he shifts, then, both hands coming up to cup her face and press his forehead to hers, more of a sibling and protective touch than he’s ever given her before. “Yet, you are not alone this time. Let me help you piece yourself back together.” He knows of her infection, so he refrains from lashing out with his silver dagger of a tongue in order to try to get through to her. “And you will be strong again. You will make him proud, if he ever hovers past to see how you are doing, hm?” He withdraws, the dark glint to his gaze remaining even as he focuses wholly on her face.
Astaroth
// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //
